


You made me a believer

by quintislover



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Just really cute, Oneshot, Possible Codas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-31 03:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12673779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quintislover/pseuds/quintislover
Summary: “I made you breakfast.” His voice was slightly raspy from sleep, warming her insides. “I know it’s just a bowl of cereal but it’s the only thing I can’t burn.”





	You made me a believer

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first time writing bughead so let me know what you think. Enjoy!
> 
> (Beta’d by my girl Shaye)

Betty awoke to the sound of birds singing in her ears and the amber rays of dawn piercing her eyelids.

She felt the warmth of a body next to her, legs tangled with hers, and breathed a deep sigh of contentment. 

She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this at ease. With all the stress of moving to New York from Riverdale for university, her shoulders had become more and more tense and her ponytail tighter. Hell, even Jughead hadn’t been able to relax her this much.

Jughead.

She pried her eyelids open and glanced next to her. Her boyfriend was laying on his front with his arm hooked around her waist and his eyelids fluttering in his sleep. His hair was splayed across his pillow and the morning light hit it just right, giving him a warm halo of curls.

Betty traced the tips of her fingers along the defined ridges of his back and found herself smiling idly. He smelled of cedar and ink and home, somehow the most comforting scent she knew.

He looked so calm in his sleep; the familiar crease between his eyebrows smoothed out, the corners of his mouth curving slightly upwards.

As she traced patterns along his glowing skin, she found herself wondering what their future would look like.

They’d have a traditional wedding, probably; although perhaps instead of a wedding car they’d use Jughead’s motorcycle. Archie would be best man and Veronica maid of honour. They’d both make speeches and cry and toast to the happy couple.

They’d move in together (officially) and support each other no matter what: her spending her days as an investigative journalist and he, a celebrated author. They’d have birthdays and Christmases and build forts and have fights and cook together. Not that she would admit it to anyone, but she had dreams of sweet domesticity.

After all of that, she saw their child. Jug would be the most supportive husband during the pregnancy, doing anything and everything to make sure Betty was comfortable. He’d attend baby classes with her and drive to the garage at midnight to buy chocolate to satisfy her cravings. He’d be encouraging and caring and, well, himself. Always himself.

For some reason she always pictured their first born as a boy. She knew Jughead wanted, more than anything, to be a father to a boy; to make sure his son grew up with a positive role model. To break the cycle of the Jones family men.

Everyone would love the baby boy, with his massive green-blue eyes and mop of curly black hair, the perfect poster child for their family.

Their future was something tangible to her - something real, something to hold on to. 

So maybe they wouldn’t have a white picket fence or a little blue mailbox on the front lawn, but they’d have each other and to Betty, that meant everything.

She drifted off thinking about their future all the while still tracing patterns on his skin.

~

When Betty woke up again, it was to an empty bed. She fumbled around, looking for her boyfriend, finding only the dip in the mattress and the cool sheets he left behind.

She opened her eyes and winced at the bright light hitting her eyes, feeling her heart sink further and further into her stomach. Jughead was gone. 

Suddenly she heard a light cough from the doorway and her head shot up. Jughead was standing in the doorway with a sheepish smile on his face and his messy curls pointing in different directions.

“I made you breakfast.” His voice was slightly raspy from sleep, warming her insides. 

“I know it’s just a bowl of cereal but it’s the only thing I can’t burn.”

He shrugged lightly and handed her the bowl of Count Chocula. Her favourite. She couldn’t even remember telling him this; just like everything else, he seemed to know her better than she knew herself.

“Juggie,” the corner of his mouth tugged up at the familiar nickname. “Thank you.”

For maybe the first time, she was speechless and did the only thing she could think of to thank him. She pressed a featherlight kiss to the tip of his nose, his cheeks, his hair and finally the corner of his mouth before he gently took her face in his hands and kissed her lips.

Kissing Jughead was the most natural thing in the world to her and in that moment she decided to stop fighting the urge and tell him exactly how she felt. 

“Jug,” she murmured against his lips. He kissed her once, twice, three times before pulling back slightly and leaning his forehead against hers. There was a question in his eyes and before she could think about doubting herself she said it.

“I love you.”

She saw his eyes widen in momentary shock and for a split second she was scared that he would up and run, leaving her with a bowl of soggy cereal and a bruised heart and ego. But his mouth stretched into the biggest smile he had ever worn and he nudged his nose against hers softly.

“I love you too Betts,” he whispered and she didn’t think she’d ever be able to feel this happy. He pulled her to him and she decided that if she could wake up every morning with the man she loved next to her, she’d need nothing else in the world.


End file.
